


come feel this magic

by indragram



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, F/F, Fluff, they're both gross nerds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-20
Updated: 2015-07-20
Packaged: 2018-04-10 07:57:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4383650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/indragram/pseuds/indragram
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Lexa is a gross nerd and Clarke is a gross nerd and then they're both gross nerds together</p><p>(ft. Anya, captain of the clexa ship)</p>
            </blockquote>





	come feel this magic

**Author's Note:**

  * For [onemilliongoldstars](https://archiveofourown.org/users/onemilliongoldstars/gifts).



> a belated bday gift for ray
> 
> also i didn't know that i could be that gross, and neither did mo. we're both in shock.
> 
> chapter title from 'hey stephen' by taylor swift, which i have been listening to a lot recently

Clarke bobs her head, tapping the end of her pen against her textbook in time with the music blasting from her earphones. She mouths along to the music, eyes scanning the book on Human Biology in front of her.

 

She’s supposed to be memorising the names of the various muscles surrounding the heart, but the music is making it hard for her to concentrate. Most people would take this as a cue to turn off the music, or at least to put on a playlist that isn’t quite so catchy. Maybe some Mozart, or Beethoven, or whatever classical stuff she can find in her mess of a music library. 

 

Luck isn’t on Clarke’s side today though, because every time she decides that she should turn the music off and really knuckle down, a song will come on that she just _has_ to mouth along to, because she hasn’t heard it in ages, or she knows all of the words to the rap in the second verse, and maybe she wants to prove that to herself, or the opening riff is just _too good_ , and turning it off is probably blasphemous.

 

But Clarke has an exam in two days, so she really should just switch it off and focus on the work in front of her, but just as she’s made this decision, a familiar piano riff starts up, and Clarke groans, because there’s no way that she isn’t going to sing along to this one.

 

Clarke resigns herself to the song, leaning back and pulling her notepad closer, dropping her pen to the empty paper as the rap starts up. Her pen scribbles absentmindedly, and she takes a breath, readying herself for the upcoming rap.

 

She mouths along wordlessly, imagining herself in a music video as her pen dances over the page, a crudely drawn heart quickly taking shape. The lines of it are thick, and cross over, melding as she draws the frame of the heart. The music in her ears pulses as she adds the curves, the thick aorta, the small veins that web the outer muscles, pressing down hard with the nib of her pen.

 

Her mind, as usual, has a mind of it’s own, and it doesn’t take long for another drawing to take shape. One that is definitely not a heart, or anything vaguely school related.

 

//

 

The Library is packed when Lexa gets there, and she curses herself for stopping to talk to the teacher at the end of the lesson. She should’ve known that students would flock to the Library in a desperate bid to study for their upcoming exams.

 

She groans, quickly scanning the area for an available seat.

 

Lexa spots an open space at one of the small tables by the windows, and takes off towards it at a brisk pace, weaving through the bodies and chairs, before dropping herself into the seat and placing her small stack of books in front of her.

 

She looks up to take note of the others at the table, but quickly ducks back down, cheeks hot, because _Clarke_ is there. Clarke - head cheerleader, arguably (Lexa _would_ argue her case if anybody asked) the most beautiful girl in the school. Clarke Griffin, whom Lexa has been crushing on for the past three years, ever since they were partnered up for a Biology project in their sophomore year, and Lexa had realised that her ideas of the blonde being some kind of a stereotypical airhead were _completely_ false.

 

And when Lexa had looked up, she had immediately been caught in Clarke’s intense blue gaze, and gotten flustered.

 

(Lexa isn’t entirely sure when she last had a real conversation with the blonde, because every time she thinks she can string together a coherent sentence, Clarke just has to _look_ at her, and Lexa become a red-faced mess.)

 

Clarke pulls out an earphone and smiles at the flushed brunette, “Hey Lexa.”

 

Lexa can hear a faint bassline coming from the blonde’s spare earphone bud, which rests on the table between them.

 

“Hi.” She mumbles, but she’s not sure if the other girl can hear her over the music. Clarke smiles regardless, before turning back to notebook she has open in front of her. Lexa turns away as well, pulling the top book off of the pile - a book on Human Biology - and opening it up to the page on the human heart.

 

//

 

Lexa drops her bag on her bed as soon as she enters the room, collapsing next to it on the duvet.

 

“Good day, then?” Lexa groans into her pillow, and Anya laughs, moving into the room and sitting in the chair by the desk. “What happened?”

 

Lexa pushes herself up, and turns over, moving to sit cross legged on top of her bed. “I sat next to her in the library today.”

 

Anya leans forwards, smirking - she’s known about the other girl’s crush on Clarke for longer than Lexa has, and ever since the brunette openly admitted to it, she has been pushing for her to approach the blonde.

 

“And...?” She motions for Lexa to continue, raising an eyebrow.

 

“And nothing.” Anya groans, sinking back in the chair and fixing the brunette with an irritated scowl. “She sat next to me, and I literally said about three words to her. Two of them were an accident, and I’m not even sure if she _heard_ the first one.”

 

“Lex,” 

 

“I know, okay?” Lexa snaps, turning to her bag and pulling out her notebook.

 

She opens it, intending to go over her notes from today’s lessons, but frowns when she notices that the pages are filled with handwriting that is definitely _not_ hers. She flips a few more pages, then abruptly slams the book shut, face flushed bright red.

 

“What?” Anya furrows her brow at the blushing brunette, leaning forwards and snatching the book out of her hands when she doesn’t respond. She opens the book again, and flicks through the pages. Most of them are filled with neat, handwritten text. There are a few small diagrams, and Anya doesn’t think that anyone has the right to make an animal cell look that pretty.

 

She doesn’t see anything that would make Lexa blush like _that_ , though-

 

Oh.

 

She stops on a page that has no words at all, just a sketch.

 

A very detailed sketch, that is, of Lexa, from the shoulders up. Her hair is piled on top of her head in a messy bun, but a few strands have escaped, and they offer a soft frame of sorts for her face. She’s wearing her glasses, which are perched low on her nose, and she’s chewing on the end of her pen. Lexa’s cheekbones are sketched with a few intentional lines, and her jawline juts out sharply. 

 

(Anya doesn’t understand how a black and white drawing can seem so colourful.)

 

“Oh my god,” She breathes, and this seems to be enough to snap Lexa out of her haze, because she immediately snatches the book shut, firmly stuffing it back into her bag, and glaring at Anya. “Whoever that person is, they’re clearly in love with you.”

 

Lexa looks away, and - Anya didn’t think it was possible - her blush deepens.

 

“Shut up.” Anya grins disbelievingly at the red-faced brunette. “No _way_.”

 

“Anya-” Lexa tries to interrupt, but the other girl shoulders on, ignoring her.

 

“This is _Clarke’s_?” She snorts, “Only you wouldn’t notice that the girl you’ve been crushing on - for _three years_ \- clearly reciprocates.”

 

“Anya, just because she drew me doesn’t me that she likes me.” Lexa retorts, the corners of her lips turned down at her own acknowledgement that Clarke definitely doesn’t like her back. “Maybe she just-”

 

“Thinks that you have a really nice face?” Anya scoffs, before pointing at Lexa’s bag, where the book is now stashed, “If that drawing doesn’t convince you of the girl’s feelings, then I don’t know what will.”

 

Lexa mumbles ‘shut up’ before lying on her back and closing her eyes.

 

“Okay, I’ll stop.”

 

“Thank-”

 

“I’ll stop if you promise me one thing.”

 

Lexa groans and sits back up, fixing the other girl with a tired gaze, “What?”

 

“When you give the notebook back to her, promise me that you’ll actually talk to her,” She stands up, “Because if you just shove it at her and run away, I will march into that school and tell her that you love her myself.”

 

And then she leaves, and Lexa goes back to staring at her closed bag before the door has even shut behind her.

 

//

 

(Lexa doesn’t open it and take out Clarke’s notebook before she goes to sleep.

 

She doesn’t find three other drawings of herself amongst the pages of schoolwork.

 

She doesn’t go to sleep with the book clutched in her hand beneath her pillow.

 

She doesn’t.)

 

//

 

Lexa’s hands are sweating by the time she walks through the front doors the next morning. She spots Clarke standing by her locker on the far side of the hallway, and wipes them nervously on her thighs before clenching her fingers around the straps of her backpack, and walking determinedly towards the blonde.

 

“Clarke.” She announces her presence, and the girl spins around, a grin immediately tugging at her pink lips.

 

“Hey,” She closes her locker and leans against it. “What’s up, Lexa?”

 

“I-” Lexa swallows heavily. She bounces a little on the balls of her feet. “I have your notebook.”

 

Clarke’s eyes widen, “You do?”

 

Lexa nods, taking one of the straps off of her shoulder and unzipping her bag. She hurriedly pulls out the black notebook and hands it to the blonde. She hopes that passing it over quickly will disguise the tremble of her hands. 

 

Clarke clutches the book to her chest, “Thank you.”

 

“Do you-”

 

“I didn’t-”

 

Lexa clenches her jaw, nodding for the blonde to speak first.

 

“I didn’t even look at it last night,” She admits, fiddling with the edges of the pages.

 

“Do you have mine?” Lexa asks, tentatively. “It has all of my notes.”

 

Clarke gasps, and hurriedly opens her locker again. The door faces Lexa, stopping the brunette from seeing Clarke as she rifles through the books in her locker. Lexa doesn’t see it when the blonde stops to feel her cheeks, and fixes her hair in the mirror.

 

Soon, Clarke is pressing a black notebook into the brunette’s empty hand, identical to the one Clarke has just shoved in her locker.

 

Lexa opens her mouth to thank the blonde, but the bell goes off, and the blonde is hurrying away to her first class.

 

‘ _Why did you draw me?_ ’ is the question on Lexa’s lips as she watches Clarke disappear from view, hidden by the crowd of students suddenly filling the corridor. ‘ _What does it mean?_ ’

 

//

 

“I got your note.”

 

Lexa looks up from her notes. She had gone to the library again after school, this time rushing out of the classroom immediately when the bell goes, meaning she was able to secure a small solo table in the quiet study area.

 

Clarke is leaning over her table, slightly breathless, and her blue eyes are shining as she brandishes a small, crumpled piece of paper in her right hand.

 

“My, uh-” Lexa frowns, she doesn’t remember writing a note for Clarke. “My note?”

 

The blonde’s eyes flicker down to Lexa’s notebook for a second, and then back up to Lexa, “Yeah, your note. It’s in your handwriting, so-”

 

She leans down, smoothing out the piece of paper onto the desk next to Lexa’s work. The brunette furrows her brow, glancing between the note and her own handwriting.

 

“This isn’t-” She swallows, looking up at Clarke, whose lips are pursed slightly in confusion. “I didn’t write this.”

 

“Oh. So you don’t-” The blonde cuts herself off with a small shake of her head. “No. Of course you don’t. I’m just going to-” She points behind herself with one thumb, then spins on her heels and disappears into the throng of students.

 

“I don’t what?” Lexa mumbles, turning back to look at the note.

 

Shit.

 

Grabbing the note, she jumps out of her chair and scrambles through the maze of chairs, darting out into the hallway.

 

“Clarke!” She shouts when she spots the familiar head of blonde hair at the end of the corridor, “Clarke, wait!”

 

The blonde stops, but doesn’t turn around. When Lexa reaches her, she’s a little out of breath, and she grabs Clarke’s hand, tugging slightly so that the girl will turn around.

 

“What do you want, Lexa?” Clarke’s voice is low, filled with resignation, and she stares at their joined hands with an odd expression on her face - Lexa can’t quite figure out what it means.

 

“I’m sorry, it’s just-” The brunette clears her throat, trying to will her voice not to shake, or fail on her, as it is prone to doing in the other girl’s presence. “Why did you draw me?” She blurts out, then shakes her head, “I mean- I didn’t write that note, Clarke,”

 

“You’ve already told-”

 

“But that doesn’t mean it wasn’t true.”

 

Clarke opens her mouth to respond, then hesitates, eyes widening. “You-”

 

Lexa wets her lips, “I like you,” She smiles a little, and straightens up, as though the confession has lifted a weight off of her shoulders. Clarke doesn’t respond, and Lexa panics, “As in, I have feelings for you, and I never said anything, because I didn’t think there was any way that you would- but then I saw those drawings, and Anya said that maybe-”

 

“Lexa-”

 

“-you liked me back. And then she must have slipped the note in your book last night-”

 

“Lexa?”

 

“-because she knew that I would chicken out, and not say-”

 

Lexa stops talking when soft hands cup her face, gulping loudly.

 

Clarke chuckles at the shocked look on the girl’s face, “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say so much in, like, the entire time I’ve known you.”

 

Lexa blushes, and closes her eyes, because the other girl’s intense blue gaze is just _too much_ right now, and she kind of needs to breathe.

 

“Hey,” Clarke prompts, her voice soft as she strokes the brunette’s cheekbones with her thumbs, coaxing her eyes back open. “I like you too.”

 

Lexa’s eyes are suddenly wide, gazing intently (hopefully) at the blonde, “You- you do?”

 

“Yes,” Clarke smiles fondly, and her eyes flicker down to Lexa’s lips. “And, I think I want to-”

 

Lexa wants to respond, to talk, to make sure that they’re on the same page, because - _hell_ \- Lexa has wanted this for so long, but suddenly Clarke’s lips are covering hers, and she doesn’t think she could ever want anything else. 

 

And, god, kissing Clarke is like kissing the sun. There’s so much heat, and power, and Lexa feels like she’s burning. And then she thinks that maybe she should pull back, because she’s read articles about the dangerous effects of over-exposure, but Clarke is licking at the seam of her lips, and Lexa’s groaning, and she can’t remember why she wouldn’t want this.

 

Lexa wishes that air wasn’t necessary, that she didn’t need to breathe, so that she could just keep kissing Clarke forever, but she needs to pull back, because she needs oxygen to live.

 

(And Lexa thinks that this is ironic, because she’s never felt more alive than she does when she’s kissing Clarke.)

**Author's Note:**

> hope you guys enjoyed?
> 
> come find me on tumblr (indragram.tumblr.com) and tell me that it was gross


End file.
